When the Lord Cries "Timber!"
Letting prayer change you, not your circumstances
Dear Readers,
This post was originally published on November 18, 2024
It has been edited and reformatted.
It is Chapter Two of “My Substack Journey.”
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
Isaiah 55:8-9
My husband and I have lived in his childhood house for nearly 13 years.
We moved in eleven months after his mother passed away in December of 2011.
Although the modest two bedroom house has only 600 square feet of living space, the backyard is expansive and when we moved in, there was a colorful variety of trees and bushes to enjoy.
There was a bottle brush tree with a few fuzzy red flowers on it, some lovely deep purple irises and an ivy covered wall.
But my immediate favorite backyard dweller was the poinsettia tree.
She was majestically cloaked in dozens of scarlet blooms, and stood tall and elegantly strong against the biting winter sky.
The flawless beauty of the poinsettia tree was starkly contrasted by a sad, thorny rose bush which stood bare with a few flies buzzing around it.
As the months and years passed, the Lord mightily used that gorgeous poinsettia tree to teach me lessons about prayer.
Allow me to explain.
For three-quarters of the year, that tree was bare.
Throughout that time, her long craggy branches resembled the bony fingers of a skeleton.
Her bark was an ashen shade of gray.
On the outside, she appeared lifeless.
And yet, when winter arrived, God completely transformed the tree.
Every year without fail, He adorned her scraggly bare head with a glorious crimson crown of blossoms.
For me, the poinsettia tree was a visual reminder that the Lord was always working behind the scenes.
In my immaturity, that tree also became a good luck charm of sorts.
It might as well have been a bush of four-leaf clovers.
Throughout every family trial, my heart was convinced that, in His timing, His promises would be kept and everything would come up roses— or rather, poinsettias.
The truth was, I desired for my prayers to change my circumstances without changing me.
This autumn has brought much sadness and pain to us.
My husband was laid off from his job at our church.
We have worked side-by-side managing our church’s bookstore for over 25 years.
We are heartbroken.
There is tremendous grief and searing pain , but as always I’ve been meditating on my little ‘promise tree.’
With winter fast approaching, I’ve reminded myself and Jesus too, that those crimson blooms should be arriving soon.
The Lord has comforted us in our brokenness.
He has graciously coddled me even as I’ve wrestled with Him begging that He restore my husband’s job.
Just call me Jacob.
My despair and desperation have driven me to make daily pilgrimages out to my poinsettia tree to inspect her for buds or blooms.
So far nothing.
On a recent backyard trip, I was surprised to see that the sad, thorny rose bush was flaunting one of the pinkest, prettiest roses I’d ever seen.
I turned away to examine my tree’s desolate branches, but found my very soul awakened by the undeniably sweet aroma of that exquisite rose.
Good for you, little rose bush. You’re finally doing what God made you to do.
The other day, I headed out to the tree.
There it stood; still gray and bony. and completely bare.
A lone hummingbird perched on the tree’s highest branch.
The view shook me.
The tiny bird fluttered over the fence to drink from my neighbor’s feeder.
Was the Lord telling me that the place where we’d been so comfortable for so long, now held nothing for us?
Was it time to move on?
Maybe.
But I wasn’t giving up yet.
Every day last week I scrupulously inspected the poinsettia tree .
On Friday, the “little rose bush that could” proudly showed off two more beautifully fragrant flowers.
Jesus was trying so hard to send me a message, but I was just to stubborn to hear it.
I stared at the bare tree and thought, in His timing, it will happen.
At that moment, I felt a twinge in my spirit.
I just that something big was about to happen.
My miracle would happen overnight.
Jesus would reach down from Heaven, touch my tree and instantly fill its branches with stunning red flowers to signify to the whole world that my husband was getting his job back!
At first light, I’d discover my promise tree in full glory and celebrate the answer to my fervent prayers.
Everything would go back to normal.
Some kids never learn.
On Saturday morning I grabbed my coffee and confidently strolled out the back door ready for the Lord to surprise me.
He did just that.
I reached the backyard and stopped cold.
What I saw took my breath away.
My poinsettia tree was lying on her side, her branches still bare and craggy, now stretching across the grass.
She was dead.
Crushed in spirit, I pleaded with Jesus to help me understand what in the world He was doing.
As I wept, I began to feel both relieved and settled.
The struggle was over.
Perhaps my tears had finally washed the scales from my eyes.
I now saw what the Lord had tried to show me weeks before.
So often during my backyard visits, the Lord had tried to draw me away from the poinsettia tree and over to the blossoming little rose bush.
He had enticed me with its splendor and wooed me with its fragrance.
Maybe He should have set it on fire.
In Isaiah 43:19, God declares, “I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?”
I see it now Lord. And I’m ready for it.
.
Sometimes it takes us a long time to recognize what’s right in front of us. God is always speaking/showing. Do we always have eyes to see and ears to hear?
Speaking for myself, unfortunately, I too fall short in both aspects on occasion.
Yes, God leads us to see what He wants us to see.